Running
by todrownandburn
Summary: Thompson was after his stepdaughter. She was on the run after finding out something she shouldn't have. He was a powerful man and had very good connections. Niko was one of these connections. Money or conscience? Niko/OC.
1. Missing

_**Chapter One**_

"Thanks for taking that guy out for me." The middle-aged man smoked his cigar as he leaned back in his Italian leather chair. "He was becoming a real pain in the ass."

"No problem," Niko replied as he stood in front of Mr. Thompson's desk in his normal attire. Thompson lounged in his chair with his feet on top of the mahogany table as if he owned the world.

"Speaking of problems, I've got one. . .that I'm sure you'll be willing to help me with."

"What sort of problem are you talking about?" Niko's Serbian accent was thick and heavy, unlike Thompson's slick American one.

"My daughter, the little bitch is trying to put me away, you know in the big house. She's planning on putting me away for a very long time, and I can't let that happen." Niko nodded as Thompson took another drag of his Cuban cigar.

"I need you to get her for me."

"You want me to kill you're own daughter?"

"Oh no, I'll be the one doing that," Thompson smiled wickedly and glared at Niko for a moment before taking his feet down from the table. Elbows on the desk, he leaned forward and continued to talk.

"I need you to find her, and bring her to me."

"How much."

"All business, not questioning my morals. . .I like you Niko," he paused and looked around his office, the walls were covered in photos, certificates, plaques, the showcase of his life. He breathed in before he spoke.

"Twenty g's, maybe twenty-five."

"You must really want to find her." Thompson got up from his chair and looked out of the window that was behind him. Rain tumbled from the black clouds hovering over the city. Perfect Liberty City weather.

"You have no idea," he murmured, shaking his head.

"Where is she?" Niko asked him.

"Well, I don't actually know-" he was interrupted by Niko's laugh. "Listen Bellic, I'll pay double, triple, just find her, understand?" Thompson sat back down on his chair and opened a drawer in his desk. He took out some files and pictures and laid them out on the table.

"This is her," he said, handing Niko a picture of his daughter. "I know she hasn't left the country and I know that she's still here in Liberty City. She was last seen a week ago, that bitch stabbed one of my men in the balls up in South Bohan." Niko was amused by this and nodded his head, an impressed smirk on his face.

"In the balls, eh?"

Thompson handed him another picture. "This is Olivia and my ex-wife, she err. . .died a few weeks ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Niko said, though he didn't look sorry, at all.

"Don't be, bitch just like her daughter." Thompson turned and walked over to his liquor cabinet, leaving Niko to sift through the photos and files on the desk. He found a news article of Thompson's marriage to his ex-wife. The girl behind them had an empty look on her face, it was Olivia.

"So, you're not actually her father," Niko stated, showing him the article as he poured himself a drink.

"No, I met her mother in London eight years ago, married her after a year and then they both moved here a year after that, I treated that bitch like one of my own. Gave her money, cars, a house. Gave her everything. She should have been grateful, she had nothing and neither did her mother. Want a drink?"

"No, thanks," he paused a while as Thompson gulped down some whiskey. "The girl then, she is English?" he questioned, looking through some more pictures.

"Yeah, stubborn little whore as well. Been hiding herself, wearing wigs and all that shit, so none of my boys will notice her. But you ain't just one of my boys, are ya?"

"Anything special about her? Scars? Birthmarks?"

"She's er gotta scar along her neck," Thompson showed Niko where on his own throat. "All along here. She got attacked when she was younger, mother said she was raped, I say she was asking for it. Always is. That fucking whore needs to be taught a lesson. And soon."

Niko pocketed one of the pictures after folding it up and nodded.

"She's clever as well, don't underestimate her. You better mind your balls." Thompson said, laughing a little.

"When you get her, call me." Niko started to leave when Thompson spoke again.

"Oh and Bellic." Niko stopped and turned around again. "You don't need to bring her back in one piece, have as much. . .fun as you like." Niko simply nodded and tried to ignore the sick grin on Thompson's face as he left.


	2. Contact

_**Chapter Two**_

"This. Is. Weazel News."

"Businessman and apparent mobster Jeremy Thompson's daughter is still missing. It's been three weeks now, and Thompson is still appealing to the public of Liberty City to call LIV-555-0300 if they know anything about her whereabouts._ 'I just want my daughter home, and if anyone knows where she is please call'. _He has already offered a reward of $15,000 to anyone who can bring her back home. Police are investigating the mysterious circumstances surrounding the death of Thompson's wife that occurred only two days before his daughter's disappearance. In other news-"

Niko turned radio off as he sped through Hove Beach in his stolen car. As he headed to Bohan, his phone started ringing.

"Niko! How are you doing, my cousin?" Roman asked, his accent much like Niko's, though it wasn't as heavy.

"I'm doing okay, Roman, and you?"

"Great! Just great! I think Mallorie's starting to fall for me!"

"Good for you cousin."

"Want to go for a drink?"

"Sorry, Roman, I can't, I must find someone."

"I've told you cousin, a thousand times, getting revenge on Florian will not help anyone-"

"Not him, someone else. I will see you soon cousin."

"See you soon, Niko."

Twenty seconds later, Niko got another call. It was Thompson.

"Mr. Thompson?"

"Hello Niko, I've got some information that might help you. Where are you?"

"Near East Hook."

"A contact will meet you in Schottler in fifteen minutes, at the Homebrew Cafe." Thompson hung up on Niko before he could reply.

* * *

"You must be Niko," Thompson's contact said, he was probably the same age as Niko.

Niko nodded as he took a seat in one of the cafe booths. The contact placed various sheets of table before he started to talk.

"Olivia Fielding, twenty-five years old, last seen in South Bohan with blonde hair and green eyes, real hair colour is brown, eyes light blue-"

"So, she's wearing wigs and coloured eyes?"

"Eye contacts yeah, we don't know where she's getting them from, but every time she is recognised, her cover gets more extreme and it becomes harder to find her."

"Great," Niko said sarcastically.

"She can't leave Liberty City and there's only so many places she can go. Her bank account activity is being recorded by the police, so we'll be informed if she withdraws anything, her apartment is obviously being watched, though I doubt she'll be stupid enough to go back there."

"We all make mistakes."

"Yeah, guess we do. She did made a mistake with her accent, about a week ago, she started shouting at one of Thompson's boys who was feeling her up in a club, he didn't know who she was but she accidentally slipped back to her normal voice. Thompson told you she's English, right?" Niko nodded in reply. "Better watch out for that then."

"Didn't she stab him in the balls?" Niko asked curiously.

"Oh yeah, poor fuck's been in hospital ever since." They both laughed at the guy's misfortune.

"She likes loud, busy places, where it's difficult to see who is who. Perfect for hiding. Other random information erm, she loves heavy metal, motorcycles, dogs,. .she'll be armed whether with knives or guns we don't know. Everything else you need's right here," the contact said, gesturing to all the paperwork.

Niko quickly shuffled them all together and stood up to leave.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Good luck finding her. You're gona need it."


	3. Droplets

_**Chapter Three**_

Niko had been searching two days now, with no such luck. He did errands for Little Jacob during the day, as well as asking around Bohan if anyone had seen her and then at night, he searched the clubs and bars of Bohan and Algonquin.

Thompson was being quite impatient now, but it wasn't as if he could do anything about it. He had all of his men trying to find her, the public informed and bribed for information, the police were on her tail. . .

Bellic decided to go to the Cave, an underground club/brothel/bar, it wasn't that well known, but still had a reputation. He parked his car thirty feet from the entrance; there wasn't anyone else in sight. It wasn't even ten o'clock at night yet. Niko walked over to the black and white sign that had _'The Cave' _written in italic script, _'Smart dress only, suits and uniforms allowed. NO EXCEPTIONS'._

He sighed and got back into his car.

Twenty minutes later, he re-parked and checked the sign again, _'Smart dress only, suits and uniforms allowed. NO EXCEPTIONS. Stair entrance around the back'._

Niko loosened his tie slightly as he climbed down the stairs, preparing himself for whatever lay behind the door.

The club was true to its name, with a high ceiling and dark interior, accompanied by lanterns and candles, it was every bit a cave.

Men in shirts and ties littered the dance floor, some of the women were dressed modestly, yet moved like common whores in time with the bass of the music.

Tables surrounded the dance floor and there was a bar in the far corner. The bar was the only familiar sight to Niko, so he eased his way around the moving bodies, avoiding the lumps of flesh that spewed out from the main bulk of the crowd.

He ordered straight vodka when he took a seat at the bar. The music was near deafening with the bass pumping into his chest, the strobe lighting was taking away yet another sense.

How could he look for her in this environment? No wonder why no one could find her.

Niko threw back his drink and ordered another one soon after.

"Hello there," a female said in his ear, her words were said loudly so they could actually be heard.

He turned to see a woman not much older than himself, dressed in a long black pencil skirt and a white shirt, which didn't conceal her cleavage in anyway.

"Looking a bit lonely, aren't you? Why don't you come out back, I'm sure I can find you some. . .worthwhile company." He did not decline her offer, simply drank his second vodka, slapped down a few dollar bills and followed her, without saying a word.

The woman lead him to a door covered with keep out signs, behind it was a long, empty corridor which had doors every 10ft on either side.

"Depending on what you're into, we've got different girls offering their variety of services, for a fee of course," Niko nodded in reply. "Judging by what I've seen of you so far, you like to keep it simple, easy and. . .rough maybe?"

He shrugged.

"One of my girls have just finished, she's likes it rough, so they're may be some element of bondage involved, you're okay with that right?" She didn't even bother to wait for a reply, how could a straight man resist being fucked by a gorgeous woman? Even if their hands were held together by plastic handcuffs, sex was still sex.

"It'll be five hundred dollars for the hour, and it'll be the best money you've spend in a long time, guaranteed."

She lead him to the empty room, and told him to sit on the wooden chair that was right in the middle of the floor. It was about 10ft by 11ft, had a single light bulb hanging above the chair, and had a black leather sofa along the back wall.

"The no-touch rule doesn't exist here, so do what you will," were the woman's last words to him.

Niko sat down on the chair, not sure what to expect in this prison cell.

The light turned off and he heard the door click shut. His ears were ringing slightly, it was nearly silent, the music was just a dull thudding now. Just after a night-long artillery bombardment, or just after a grenade explodes only a few metres away from you.

The bulb then flicked on and his eyes made out a female standing at the door, when they finally were accustomed to the light, his sight took in the detail of the ebony thigh boots, the short black skirt, the laced black corset and matching leather gloves that went all the way up her arm.

She circled round him slowly, her heels clicking against the grey concrete of the floor. Her hair was long, curled and a strange sort of cherry colour. Like dark droplets of blood falling from her head, twisting and curling at their will.


End file.
